


I Won't Give Up

by The Muse of Apollo (mtwb)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bad Writing, Dark Thoughts, F/M, Fluff, Harmony & Co 2k Celebration, Song fic, Songfic, potions book, sixth year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 09:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20023582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtwb/pseuds/The%20Muse%20of%20Apollo
Summary: It was times like this when it hurt the most.





	I Won't Give Up

**Author's Note:**

> Tags: Romance, Angst, Sixth Year, Potions Book, Songfic, One Shot
> 
> Author’s Note: This song is inspired by Jason Mraz’s song “I Won’t Give Up,” Five for Fighting’s song “100 Years,” and Stone Sour’s song “Zzyzx Rd.” Lyrics are taken from those songs. I don’t own them, nor do I own Harry Potter. Also, I know technically these songs would not have been out during the sixth book, I don’t care. Written for Harmony & Co’s 2k Celebration.

Harry Potter was not the person most people thought he was. Most people assumed he was some storybook hero, willing and able to go off to fight the largest dragon to save every fair maiden in Britain and beyond.

That wasn’t him.

Those same people turned on Harry at a hat when he didn’t fit their idea of the perfect hero. No one truly spent the time to get to know him. They just assumed. It had made Harry mad for a long time, but after Sirius’ death, Harry decided that he had a lot bigger problems than what people thought of him.

After all, only one person mattered to him. She was the only one he cared about, the only one who’s feelings towards him mattered. Hermione.

Harry hadn’t realized how much his best friend meant to him until he had almost lost her. That curse that had nearly sliced her in half had almost ended his world too. If Hermione had died, Harry knew that his life would have been over.

If she was gone, what did he have to live for?

That moment when Neville had found her pulse was the most relieving moment of Harry’s life. That was when he had known that he loved her as more than just a best friend. It was that love that had eventually driven Voldemort out of his mind just a half-hour later.

After that, Harry had decided that he needed to tell Hermione how he felt. It scared him, of course, but he knew that Hermione would be kind about it, even if there was little chance of her returning his feelings. He was prepared for that. After all, he had known that Ron and Hermione had feelings for each other for quite some time.

Unfortunately, Harry chickened out after hearing about the prophecy. That idiotic bullshite had ruined everything.

So Harry had let fifth-year end, spending as little time with his friends as possible. He knew that he was being moody, but he figured after losing Sirius and finding out that he had some terrible destiny, he had a right to be a bit broody.

When it came right down to it, he was scared. Those people who thought him some kind of hero would have been ashamed to know that he could even be scared, but Harry was frightened out of his mind. Harry knew that there was no way he was going to beat Voldemort without some huge stroke of pure luck. The beast had 70 plus years of experience while Harry had slacked off during his five years of schooling. And Dumbledore didn’t seem to be all that bothered by it, which just scared Harry even more. The old goat seemed to think that love was going to be Harry’s savior once again.

That was a laugh. Or rather it would have been if Harry wasn’t convinced that the old fool meant every word of it.

So yes, he was scared. Scared shiteless, really. Harry didn’t want to die. He wanted to grow old, preferably with Hermione by his side, and raise a family of his own. It was only a dream, but Harry wanted it. Wanted it badly.

After he had gotten through his period of staring certain death in the face, which took up the first whole week at the Dursleys, Harry came up with a plan. Ron Weasley was his best mate, but he was also a jealous git, and he hurt Hermione all the time. The two bickered and fought, and more times than not, Hermione ended up crying. Harry was ashamed to say that he didn’t stick up for her as often as he should. He knew that she could defend herself just fine, but now that he knew how he felt, those times when he had taken Ron’s side seemed like a betrayal of his true best friend.

Ron didn’t deserve Hermione. If she really wanted Ron, then fine, but Harry wasn’t going to step aside for someone who continually hurt her.

And the prophecy? Well, that was a different story. One huge part of him wanted to stick to his original idea, which was to distance himself from everyone, thereby protecting them all from his terrible fate. After thinking about it for weeks, however, Harry decided that there was a better plan.

Harry decided that he would fight. And he would win. He had known that he wasn’t just going sit back and let Voldie take over, but now he had a reason to fight, a reason to win, a reason to live. Hermione was that reason, even if she didn’t know it yet.

When the Order came to pick him up, he was ready to leave the Dursleys and put his plan into action. He knew he would need help, and he knew just the witch for the job.

Voldemort wouldn’t know what hit him.

-:::-

**September 20, 1996**

Harry strummed a chord on his guitar as he stared out of the window. The guitar was old, and seriously out of tune, but he didn’t care. It was soothing to have a guitar in his hands again. The year so far hadn’t gone as he had planned.

The entire plan he had created while at the Dursleys relied on one thing: Hermione helping him. He knew that he had to do the work, and he was willing to learn and to train and all that, but Hermione was his motivator and the person who would be proud of him each time he got a spell right.

He hadn’t counted on her hating him. Harry hadn’t seen that coming.

Since the beginning of the year, Hermione had been angry with him more often than not. It had just started as small squabbles, but then she had blown upon him when he had started using a neat potion’s book to do better in potions. Harry had offered to share the book with her, and had in fact, hoped that they could go through it together for interesting spells and potion shortcuts that could help with with the war. But Hermione hadn’t seen it as a tool, but instead as a cheat.

The one person whose opinion mattered now thought of him as a cheat. Harry hadn’t been able to deal with that, so after a week of using the book, he had stopped. That hadn’t stopped Hermione from yelling at him at every chance or stomping out of the room when he entered it. It was like she couldn’t stand the sight of him, and it was breaking his heart.

Hermione hated him because he had almost gotten her killed, Harry was sure of it. He had blamed himself for her injuries, of course, but he had never once thought that she would blame him. For the first two weeks of term, Harry had been at a complete loss as to how to fix his broken friendship with the most important person in his life.

The worst thing had happened the day before. Hermione’s birthday was always a special occasion. Harry hadn’t known her well during their first year, but every year since he had done something nice for her on her birthday. Hermione had always loved his little gifts because they were personal and just between them. Harry knew that she didn’t like attention so he always gave her her gift in private, and it was always something hand made.

Second year, he’d made her an engraved inkpot. It wasn’t much, but Hermione had loved the gift and had used it as her primary ink source for the last four years.

In third year, Harry had carved her a custom quill made from a hippogriff feather (donated willingly by Buckbeak). He’d had it charmed to be self-inking, which she had loved.

In fourth year, Harry had learned enough transfiguration to craft Hermione a bracelet made out of magical wood. It was simple – he wasn’t a very good woodworker as it turned out – but Hermione had loved the little bracelet. She had even worn it during the Yule Ball, which had made Harry very happy even though he had kicked himself the entire night for not asking her himself.

In fifth year, Harry had purchased a bottomless backpack for her. It was the first thing that he had ever bought for her, but he wanted to do something nicer for her than normal. He had personally engraved her name on it, however, and had taken pains to learn several charms so that it was unbreakable and waterproof.

For this year, Harry had scoured the Black Library while he was a Grimmauld Place and had found a spell that would allow him to bring gold out of the ground. Gold was one of those things that couldn’t be conjured, but it could be summoned easily enough. The spell was technically illegal, but Harry didn’t care that much. He’d managed to summon enough gold from a spot in the Forbidden Forrest to make Hermione a gold hair clip fashioned in the shape of a griffin.

Hermione had hated it and had no problem telling him so.

“I suppose this is your way of telling me I need to control my hair, isn’t it? Well, thanks a lot Harry, nice to know you think so little of my appearance.”

Harry had been gutted. He’d worked hard on the damn hairpin, had in fact broken the law to make it, and she hadn’t liked it.

He’d fled from her at that point, near tears. Harry felt like his friendship with Hermione was over, and it was breaking him. What was he going to do without her?

He’d gone to the Room of Requirement and cried for hours. Harry hadn’t cried in years, but the loss of Hermione broke something deep inside, and the tears wouldn’t stop.

That was when Harry had asked for a guitar. Music had always been something that he was quite good at. It was also, oddly enough, the one interest that the Dursleys approved of. Well, maybe approve was a strong word, but they didn’t seem to care that Harry liked music. They let him take music classes all throughout primary and had turned away when Mrs. Figg had allowed him over to practice on her piano and use her old acoustic guitar. She was the one who had taught him to play both instruments.

After coming to Hogwarts, Harry didn’t get to play as much, but after the day he’d had, he just wanted to play. The old guitar that the RoR had given him was much like the one he had learned on, so it was quite easy to pick up again.

Harry hadn’t gone back to Gryffindor tower. He spent the night in the room, alternately playing some of his favorite songs and feeling sorry for himself. He didn’t get much sleep.

_Well, I won't give up on us_

_Even if the skies get rough_

_I'm giving you all my love_

_I'm still looking up_

The song was new, something that Harry had heard on the radio just a few times before he had left the Dursleys for the summer. He knew he was butchering it, but he didn’t care. There was no one around to see or hear him. It just fit his mood.

_And when you're needing your space_

_To do some navigating_

_I'll be here patiently waiting_

_To see what you find_

His plan was for her. He’d been training since the beginning of the school year if one could call it that. Harry spent time reading his school books, learning the things he should have already learned. It felt so useless, but he knew he had to start somewhere.

In the end, it was all for her. That was what he had decided. He would fight and win for her. That hadn’t changed just because she hated him. Harry still wanted her to be happy, to live a life free of Voldemort and his merry band of dark wankers. She was worth it.

_'Cause even the stars they burn_

_Some even fall to the earth_

_We've got a lot to learn_

_God knows we're worth it_

_No, I won't give up_

As Harry sang, he thought about what he was doing. The snail's pace at which he learned things was not going to cut it. Maybe it was for the best that Hermione wanted nothing to do with him. He could focus on his studies and learn to fight so that he could win. It no longer mattered whether he survived the fight or not, but he wouldn’t just give up and let Voldemort win. No, that wasn’t an option.

_I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily_

_I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make_

_Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use_

_The tools and gifts we got, yeah, we got a lot at stake._

With that, Harry finished his song – out of tune and irregular as it had been – and put down the guitar. It was time to get to work. He would still fight for Hermione. The ending might not be what he had wanted, but Harry knew that it didn’t matter. Hermione was worth it.

-:::-

**December 15, 1996**

Hermione Granger hefted a book above her head and placed it back on the shelf. She didn’t like to use magic in the library to put books back, even if Madame Pince had given her permission to do so – one of the few students who had such permission. Hermione was always worried that a spell could go wrong and ruin a priceless book. That was not something she would ever risk.

After placing the book back in its proper place, she glanced around the library once before heading back towards the table she had been using to study. Before she got too far, she heard some giggling coming from one of the stacks to the left of her table.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Hogwarts castle was huge. Why did those silly girls need to come to the one place in the castle that needed to be quiet to spread their gossip?

Thinking of telling them off, Hermione strode towards the stack that the girls were hiding behind.

“I think I’ll give him the candy tomorrow. Then Potter will be sure to ask me to the party. The potion says it will work for at least a day, and the party is the 20th.”

Hermione froze. She not only knew that voice, but she knew what she was talking about. Romilda Vane had been a pain in the arse all year long. The silly little girl had fixated on Harry Potter all year, and it was enough to drive everyone around her barmy.

Not that Hermione cared who mooned over Harry, but love potions were beyond the pale.

Just the thought of her best friend made Hermione a bit angry, of course, but she pushed that aside. She couldn’t let the little bitch potion, Harry, no matter how much she was mad at him.

Deciding that warning Harry was the best course of action, Hermione made her way back to her table and packed up her bottomless backpack. She ignored the twinge of happiness just seeing the pack always gave her and made her way out of the library, hoping to find her best friend unoccupied.

An hour later, Hermione was pissed off and stomping around Hogwarts. Harry was nowhere to be found, and she was livid. That boy was always up to something. Why couldn’t he just be normal for one year, was that too much to ask? Honestly.

All Hermione wanted was one single normal year at Hogwarts. That was what she set out for when she had stayed at her parents all summer. Instead of going and spending time with Harry – like she normally did during the summers – she stayed at home right up to September 1. And she had plans for her sixth year. There would be no adventures or conspiracies or war planning. Harry would just either have to be normal with her – unlikely, she knew – or he would have to do his usual nonsense on his own. He had apparently chosen the latter.

From the first day of school, the silly boy had been assured that Draco Malfoy was up to something. What that was, Harry didn’t know, and from what Hermione could see, didn’t really care. To her, Harry was a heroism junkie, someone who always needed to be saving someone or embroiled in some kind of dangerous plot. It drove her insane because she cared for the idiotic boy and wanted him to be safe. How much was that to ask?

But no, Harry had to stick his nose into everything and go searching for trouble. It had made her so angry. Furious, in fact. She knew that she had been mean to him a lot this year, but she couldn’t help it. Hermione would not be drawn into Harry’s nonsense, even if it meant that their friendship suffered. She ignored the pain that crossed his face every time she shouted at him or the clear heartbreak that had shown in his eyes when she had thrown his clearly handmade birthday present back in his face. It was for his own good. He couldn’t get into much trouble without her there to bail him out, or so she thought, so she distanced herself from him.

Now she needed to find him, and he was nowhere to be found. Bastard.

Hermione had asked Ron, but Ron was too busy gazing lustily at Lavender Brown to noticed anything else around him. Hermione had just glared at him in disgust when he had just shrugged his shoulders and said “I dunno.”

Hermione had asked several others, but Harry hadn’t been seen in hours. Hermione thought back to the last time she had seen him and stopped in her tracks. She was on the stairs between the fifth and sixth floors, heading back down towards the library, even though she knew Harry wasn’t there.

When had she last seen her best friend? That was odd. She couldn’t really remember. After her birthday, she had seen less and less of the raven-haired wizard. The only times she saw him, now that she thought of it, was in class. Even at mealtimes, she hadn’t noticed his presence.

Hermione frowned, her anger retreating. Where was Harry? Surely he wasn’t really in trouble? Dumbledore would have said something if Harry was in trouble, wouldn’t he? The old Headmaster seemed just as invested in keeping Harry safe as she was.

Hermione spun around and started to make her way back up the stairs. She had one more place to check, but after that, she decided it was best to just wait until she could corner Harry after classes on Monday.

She hadn’t thought much about the Room of Requirement since the previous year. Now that the DA was no more, she hadn’t really found a reason to come back to use it. But she started to wonder if Harry had.

As she came upon the 7th-floor corridor where the entrance to the room was located, she was shocked to find a door already present. Normally that wasn’t the case, and Hermione could only assume that it meant that someone was using the room. But why didn’t they make the door invisible? That’s what they had done for the DA.

Deciding that it was okay to enter, Hermione pulled on the handle and slipped inside the room. She stopped in her tracks, shocked at what was in front of her.

-:::-

Harry frowned down at the piano keys. He’d just finished his training for the day and he was tired, but he knew that there wouldn’t be very much sleep for him that night. Nightmares had been plaguing him for months, worse than they ever had been before. He had a suspicion that Voldemort was feeding him some of them, but Harry still couldn’t figure out how to shield his mind like he was supposed to.

He wasn’t playing anything specific tonight, just going through a few of his favorite tunes, sometimes singing along, other times not. The guitar that he had been using had long since had its strings broken, but he had found that the piano was just as relaxing to play.

_15 there's still time for you_

_Time to buy and time to lose_

_15 there's never a wish better than this_

_When you only got a hundred years to live_

The song was beautiful, but it was a lie, and Harry knew it. He didn’t have a hundred years to live. Voldemort was gaining more power by the day, and Harry knew it was only a matter of time before he and Voldie clashed again. He’d been training, of course, but he knew it wasn’t enough.

_I'm 99 for a moment_

_And dying for just another moment_

_And I'm just dreaming_

_Counting the ways to where you are_

It hurt to think that a few months from now, he would be gone from this world. Would anyone really care that he was gone? Harry shook his head and frowned as he hit a sour note. Of course, people would care? Ron and the Weasleys would miss him, wouldn’t they? And though Hermione hated him, she might at least shed a tear at his funeral? Harry switched songs.

_I don't know how else to put this_

_It's taken me so long to do this_

_I'm falling asleep and I can't see straight_

_My muscles feel like a melee_

_My body's curled in a U-shape_

_I put on my best, but I'm still afraid_

He ignored the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes and continued to play. It felt good to let it out. Harry had distanced himself from everyone he loved in the past few months. It was necessary. Hermione hated him, Ron was busy being a typical teenage boy, and Harry loved them both too much to embroil them in his dark destiny.

_What am I supposed to hide now?_

_What am I supposed to do?_

_Did you really think I wouldn't see this through?_

_Tell me I should stick around for you, tell me I could have it all_

_I'm still too tired to care and I got to go_

He didn’t hear the door open. He hit another slightly sour note but continued to play and sing. The song was originally about the singer’s struggle with suicidal thoughts. It wasn’t something Harry had really struggled with, yet the lyrics resonated with him. It was a song about ending, and not knowing how to deal with it. A song about begging for another way, any other way to continue on, but not being able to find it.

_I'm over existing in limbo_

_I'm over the myths and placebos_

_I don't really mind if I just fade away_

_I'm ready to live with my family_

_I'm ready to die in obscurity_

_'Cause I'm so tired that I got to go_

When he played the last note he just sat there in silence for a moment, still staring at the white and black ivory keys. The piano had seen better days, but it was still a strong instrument, and Harry loved it. Just the feel of the keys under his fingers could soothe him.

“Harry.”

Harry fell back off of the piano stool and landed on his ass. He gazed up into the watery brown eyes of his best friend and groaned loudly. He hadn’t heard her come in, and what was she doing here anyway? While he had gone out of his way to avoid her over the last few months, it wasn’t like she had tried very hard to stay by his side. Why had she sought him out now?

He struggled to his feet, looking away from the girl who was staring at him with her hand over her mouth. “Did you need something, Hermione?”

-:::-

Hermione had no idea that Harry could play the piano, nor that he could sing so well. It shocked her to her core. She would have bet money that she knew almost everything there was to know about Harry James Potter. The fact that she hadn’t known this part of him made her both excited and a bit disappointed. Excited because it meant that there were still things to learn about him, disappointed because the fact that she hadn’t known about his musical talent probably meant that he hadn’t trusted her with that knowledge.

The song did her in. She’d heard it before, and she knew what it was about. Could Harry really be thinking those thoughts? It didn’t make sense to her. Sure he was a bit moody from time to time, but Harry wasn’t depressed.

Was he?

She whispered his name, heartbroken that her best friend was so depressed. She didn’t even have the heart to giggle when he fell off the stool he had been sitting on. He looked at her, and that’s when she knew why he was feeling the way he was.

It was her. The way he was looking at her told her everything. The one thing that Hermione knew for sure about Harry was that he hid his emotions from everyone. She knew that this was a byproduct of the Dursleys treatment. But she had also come to know that he couldn’t control the way his eyes looked. Even the color changed based on his mood, and she had become very adept at reading him over the years.

So she knew, just the way he was looking at her, that she was the one who had caused him the pain he had been feeling while singing.

“Did you need something, Hermione,” Harry asked in a cold voice, causing Hermione to shiver. He was standing now, but he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Hermione wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her arms and tell him that she was so sorry for having hurt him, but she was sure that he didn’t want that from her, not anymore.

“I...I was just looking for you, Harry. I overheard something that you need to know about, and then I couldn’t find you, and I was worried and angry that you weren’t around, which was irrational of me, and...” Hermione babbled, nervous now that she had finally found her voice. She finally stopped and looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry finally turned to look at her. “For what?”

Hermione looked back up, shocked to find him gazing at her once again. “I’m sorry for whatever I did that hurt you. I...I know I’ve been distancing myself this year, I shouldn’t have done that. I’m really sorry.”

“Oh, Hermione. It’s okay. I know that it was my fault that you got hurt at the Department of Mysteries. I don’t blame you for hating me now. It’s okay.”

Hermione rushed forward and wrapped him in a hug for one second and then pulled back and slapped his shoulder. “You idiot boy! How dare you think that I could hate you? I don’t hate you. And I don’t blame you for my injuries at the DoM. That was on me. I shouldn’t have silenced Dolohov, it is as simple as that.”

“I...I don’t understand then. Why have you been distancing yourself then? Don’t you want to be my friend anymore?”

Hermione looked away. “I just...I just wanted a normal year. I know you don’t really do normal, but I wanted you to have a normal year too. That’s why I’ve been trying to get you to ignore whatever Malfoy is up to and just have a nice year at Hogwarts. When it looked like you wouldn’t stop looking for adventure, I decided it was better just to leave you to it and distance myself. It was easier to be angry with you all the time rather than actually tell you any of this.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” she whispered finally.

Harry pulled her closer. “No, Hermione, I’m sorry. I know being my friend can’t be easy. Hell, it’s been this way from the beginning. We’ve moved from one crazy crisis to another, with barely any time in between. I wish I could just be a teenager and ask the girl I fancy out to Hogsmeade. But I can’t. It isn’t even Malfoy, I know that I can’t have the normal life I want until Voldemort is gone, and I seem to be the one who has to put an end to that monster.

“I understand that you want to be normal, so I don’t blame you.”

Hermione just wrapped her arms around her best friend tighter and cried into his chest. She didn’t deserve to be forgiven so easily. She hadn’t forgotten the song he was singing, but she didn’t know if she could talk to him about it. To think that her putting distance between them had made him so depressed, broke her heart, and she resolved that she wouldn’t hurt him like that ever again.

“Shh, don’t cry. I hate it when you cry. You know I’m rubbish with pretty girls who cry,” Harry said softly. Hermione giggled.

After a few moments, she was able to pull herself together. She pulled back but didn’t remove her arms from around Harry’s waist. “When did you learn to play the piano?” She asked, finally.

“When I was like four, actually. Mrs. Figg had a baby grand at her house and she let me play. When she found out that I had an aptitude for music, she somehow talked the Dursleys into letting me take lessons with her, and eventually, they allowed me to take music classes at school. I don’t know what she said to them, but it was the one thing they let me do that I actually enjoyed. I didn’t play as much once Hogwarts started.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you could play?”

Harry shrugged. “It just never came up. I mean I only started playing here at school this year, and it isn’t something I really wanted to share with anyone else. I mean can you imagine what Ron would say if I told him I played the piano? He’d never let me hear the end of it.”

“And me?”

“Well, as I said, it never really came up, and you and I spend so much time doing other things.” Again, Harry shrugged, and Hermione decided to let it go. She knew now and that was what mattered.

It was then that Hermione realized something. She had been holding her best friend in her arms for the better part of five minutes, maybe longer, and she had felt something that she had never felt before when hugging him. Muscles.

“Harry, have you been working out?”

Harry blushed. “A bit.”

Hermione absentmindedly rubbed her hands up and down Harry’s chest. He felt so solid. Before when she would hug him, it always felt like he was so fragile, but now he felt like he could play football. His shoulders were even broader, and now that she was paying attention he was several inches taller than he had been at the beginning of the school term. When she finally looked up at Harry – which again, was odd as she used to be taller than him – she noticed he was blushing up a storm.

That was when she noticed what she had been doing. For a moment, Hermione could feel her cheeks reddening to match Harry’s, but then she grinned. It wasn’t often that she got a chance to tease Harry, so she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

“What’s got you so embarrassed?” Hermione asked. “I mean, from what I feel here you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

Harry’s blush deepened as he narrowed his eyes. But then he grinned. “Really, you think so?”

“I...I” Hermione stuttered. She glanced up at Harry’s face and noticed his eyes were dancing with barely concealed humor. The sight took her breath away. Barely twenty minutes earlier he’d been singing a terribly sad song, and now he was laughing at her inability to tease him. He looked happy. Hermione couldn’t have stopped what she did next, even if she wanted to.

She kissed Harry Potter right on the mouth. It was something she had thought about doing many times over the years (going so far back as her first year when he had been so brave in going after the stone all by himself). At first, he didn’t kiss her back, but she wasn’t offended. She figured he was mightily surprised. But after a moment, he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, causing her to moan.

When they finally pulled apart, Hermione buried her face into Harry’s chest and grinned widely. She had wanted nothing more than to be a normal teenage girl for just one year. No adventures or death-defying stunts. Just one year.

She should have known that being in love with Harry Potter meant that nothing would ever be normal for her. Hermione thought that for the first time, she just might be perfectly okay with not being normal.

**Fin. **

  



End file.
